


Into the Tall Grass

by night_reveals



Category: Inception (2010), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/night_reveals/pseuds/night_reveals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has lived in run-down Pallet Town his whole life, listening to tales of its former glory as he scrapped together enough gil to get out and into the wild. But the world has changed, and when Arthur walks out into it, he finds more than he ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Tall Grass

Arthur is running. He is running as fast as he can, his heart racing with him, his feet barely touching the ground before they take off again. He is a bird, flying through the streets. He shoots up from the south. There is the pond, where the children of the town fish for koi and magicarp in the lazy summer hours. Here is the market, where his mother goes early in the day for the cheapest lettuce and carrots. Across the way is the broken down school, its few classrooms shuttered for the weekend. In front of him the dusty road labours on. Crumbling statues of Ketchum and Misty loom in from the sides, stone giving way to time. He soars past the husband and wife from the street below his family's, not pausing to even gasp out a greeting. They cheer him on, for they know why he is running. The only concession Arthur can make to their shouts is a quick hand over his shoulder. Towards the north the trees thin, becoming little sticks instead of great timber. Houses grow larger, till even they end and the center of his town comes into view. A rusting metal sign hangs over the largest shop, and just a little farther ahead a round building sprouts from the ground like a stubby mushroom with pale skin. It is here that Arthur heads.

Above it all, the deep pond and the looming trees and the little houses and the crumbling statues, a tattered flag flaps in the sharp wind.

 _Welcome to Pallet Town_ , it reads.

Arthur is arrived.

~*~

The Professor looks down his half-moon glasses at Arthur, who is dusty from the road and panting with exertion.

"Five years of training, and this the one day you are late," he says, sighing and folding his glasses.

Apologies come with Arthur's breath. Professor Miles is kind, though, and waves them away.

"The others have already come and gone. I had to save yours for you." He leads Arthur to the back, through the doors that hiss open and the steel halls that echo their voices. The room they step into is large, but it is a little area that fascinates Arthur. In the alcove rests one last metal ball. It is a simple design of red and white, the simplest there is. Arthur does not care.

"This is it." The Professor stands away and watches Arthur. "Choose it."

Under Arthur's fingers the sphere is warm, like a mug of hot chocolate on a blustery day. It vibrates, too, its contained power itching to break free. He swipes sweat from his brow with his free hand, and sucks in a breath.

"I choose you, Charmander!" He throws the ball to the center of the room. A flash follows, spreading until it is a wave under his skin, trembling and growing from his scalp to the tips of his toes.

The haze fades, and the outline of something appears. She is so red -- this is Arthur's first thought. He wonders how he knows it is a she, and not a he, for there is no way to see it. He only feels it, in his bones, in the places where already a connection forms. She is red, and young, and weak. She bats lightly at his hand when he makes to pet her. He smiles, because she fits him, light and easily carried in his arms. It takes a moment for her to nuzzle against him, but when she does, warm skin against his own, Arthur’s smile overtakes his face. He cradles her close, and with her the possibilities that flicker bright with the light of her tail.

“She’s beautiful,” he says, softly.

Sighing, the Professor walks to Arthur. He takes the charmander from him, putting it on the ground clinically.

“It is beautiful, Arthur. It.” Reproach and resignation crowd his voice, as if he must say this to Arthur often.

“Sorry, professor. I just.”

The room’s steel glints with her tail, and she whips it around, looking up at him. She chirps, and raises her stubby arms like a small child begging to be picked up. Arthur bites his lip, staring into her eyes.

“You started your training when you were young, before the changes. But there are laws, and new traditions, and reasons for them both. You know this.”

“I know,” Arthur echoes.

“You cannot name it,” reminds the Professor.

“I will not name it,” Arthur says, making a promise he has already broken in his heart.

~*~

Arthur is an honest boy, a good boy. He tries not to lie, even to himself. As he leaves Professor Miles’ lab, he knows that his heart beats now not from running but from fear: for the world is wide, and Arthur has only ever gone as far as the third town’s post office. Yet soon he will walk into the tall grass, alone save for his one small companion.

He hopes it will not swallow them both whole.


End file.
